Braids
by Eyes like Dawn
Summary: Thrall braids Jaina's hair. Does it have a deeper meaning? One-shot. R&R if you like it.


_A/N: Set kind of in-between Cataclysm and Wrath. Also, anyone who approves Aggra + Thrall can go die in a hole. Okay I don't mean that, but Thrall and Jaina forever! _

**Blizzards owns Warcraft and that terrible idea of putting Aggra and Thrall together. QQ**

**~8~8~**

Jaina growled in frustration as she looked over faded land, and mind boggling sea charts lying in tiny loose leaf stacks or incased in silver scrolls. Her blue gaze fell over a messy table crowded with tarnished silver ink pots, broken writing quills, and dried candle wax that pooled around the edges of the table, and hung dry on the sides like icicles from a house roof. Her ink stained fingers gripped the edges of the table as she hunched over inspecting the trade route lines and shipment trails wearily.

Constantly meandering paths colored in red and blue were passing through one another to often like an intertwining rainbow. Why had Varian decide he wanted a bigger supply route to the Barrens, why did he insist upon traipsing across well traveled Horde lands with caravans filled with boxes and crates to reinforce his intruding army, and why in the Light's name had he ordered Jaina to handle all the details! Was he trying to garner resentment from the Horde directed at the small human town on the fringes of the wide marsh? Was he trying to make her lose all her progress of peace with the Horde so that she had to go to war no matter how much she fought it?

"We should take a break." Thrall suggested, his bass voice warm and comforting like a thick blanket on a chilly winters night.

Jaina let her shoulders slump a bit in relief at his voice, he was the only one she could actually make progress with despite their differences, despite wars, he was a voice of reason in a churning sea of conquest and war.

Jaina allowed a gusty sigh to pass her lips and turned around to find Thrall precariously holding to two steaming mugs of Honey-mint tea. The blue mugs with the golden anchor of the Theramoore crest emblazoned on the ceramic looked small in his huge hands and the heat didn't seem to bother him in the least. The rare soft tusky smile he wore always caused Jaina's lips to tip upward and this time it was not different. She had always fancied that rare smile was reserved only for her, when they were alone and away from the scrutinizing eyes of the world.

Remembering the awful reason he was there chased the smile from her full lips placing the frustrated, stressful, angry frown back in its stead. Swiping a lock of amber honey hair from her soft face she shook her head determinedly. "We can't; we have to finish this route agreement."

No matter what happened people of both sides would be dissatisfied, anger would rile the troops and blood would be shed at some point, their job however, was to make certain than it was only a stream and not a river of blood that gushed from their decisions.

Thrall was persistent. "We've been staring at the chart for three hours, Jaina; a five minute break won't kill us or anyone else for that matter." The orc sighed as he sat down gingerly on a thick sea blue oval rug in front of Jaina's fire place. The warm azure rug was like a bed roll, plush and comfortable and could be slept on which many times he and Jaina had done together when they were to exhausted to even move to the bed in the adjacent room. Placing the mugs close to the crackling fire place to keep them warm he beckoned the sorceress to him, his voice mildly scolding. "Even leaders must rest, my friend."

He was right, Jaina knew, a break would be just what the healer ordered to her overheated brain, and she moodily complied by sitting next to him. Thrall smiled at his dear friend and let her brood moodily as she sat beside him. Her sapphire blue eyes were stapled to the flickering tongues of bright orange flame in the fireplace, her head tilting slightly to the left as if she were in a deep trance, and she leaned against her hand. But Thrall knew better, she was lost in though, the cogs in her head ever turning like a wound Goblin machine. Secretly he thought she never looked more beautiful when she was in her quiet reverie, it was the true Jaina, tactial, studying, pondering.

Her loose golden hair fell out of place again splashing across her face, seemingly riling her from her contemplations. With a small frustrated cry as if losing a good thought or being interrupted from an epiphany from the sudden distraction of hair across her features, the sorceress viciously jerked the hair from in front of her face back behind her ear.

Jaina was fuming inside, her anger crackling like the fire greedily feeding on the logs in the hearth. Curse Varian for being so immovable and war hungry; curse him for 'punishing' her for her close relations with the Horde, curse everything about the man! Some times Jaina wished she'd never helped the rough and tumble, black haired savage looking gladiator champion that had shown up at her gates years ago; desperate for answers. She should have never revealed his true origins, but at the time she had been so naïve for thinking he would bring peace instead of war. She had thought about Thrall, he had been a slave and gladiator and look how he turned out; a wise gentle, loving man that knew the balance of peace and war who led his people to seek a prosperous future instead of one awash with gore and blood.

In truth, Jaina blamed herself for the rising bloodshed against the Horde and Alliance. Nights when she looked out the window and saw Alliance soldiers marching out into the untamed wilds of Kalimdor she often wished she'd lied and sent the gladiator Lo'gosh on his way to look for more answers from his past that he would have never found.

Jaina was jarred from her dire morose contemplations when she felt thick calloused fingers smooth through her silky amber honey hair. For a moment she lost all her depressing thoughts too curious as to what Thrall was up to. "Thrall, what are you doing?" She asked her tones half serious and half curious as to what was transpiring.

He moved swiftly for such a large creature and was sitting behind her. He smiled gently as he took three locks in his hand and began to entwine them deftly. "Braiding your hair." He replied nonchalantly as if it was the most normal thing in the world to be doing.

There was a moment of stunned silence on Jaina's part as Thrall braided her hair with practiced ease. Light, heart lifting laughter bubbled up from Jaina like a brook overflowing with water from a heavy rain. Her laughter echoed across the wide tower room as she chuckled until tears of merriment ran down her face. She didn't know why, but such a pleasant light hearted thing made her forget her worries temporarily and allow herself a few gracious moments to let the warring world that was slowly tearing itself apart fade away for a few precious moments. It took her quite some time to contain her giggles before she could even find the breath to speak. "Why, pray tell, if the Warchief of the Horde braiding my hair?"

Thrall hummed quietly to himself and Jaina could tell he was trying to keep his deep hearty laughter from escaping his lips. Even with out looking at him she could feel his rare grin on his face as he replied. "It was getting in your way; I thought I better save your poor locks before you started yanking your hair out from the roots in frustration."

Jaina had to suppress another giggle, as she let the huge orc braid her hair. Her hair being braided hadn't been done since she was a small child, with out worries, and with out a care in the world. With a content sigh she leaned back allowing him better access to her long honey colored tresses.

"What's the real reason?" She asked. Her voice was light and playful, something Thrall hadn't heard in many months.

He shrugged his broad shoulder carelessly. "It calms and helps me think when I braid my hair. In the mornings before I prepare to face my people I always braid this unruly mess of mine." His hair was a thick mane of silky onyx black that always made him look ridiculous when not braided. "As I take the three parts in my hand I imagine each stand for something that when entwined make up a singular reason for being who I am, and why I do what I must do." He rumbled.

"Hmm," Jaina muttered to herself ponderously. Thrall could tell just by her quiet tone she was thinking again. "Give me an example." She asked suddenly though her tone was still thoughtful.

"Well one part I think of my people, for another the spirits, and for the last." He stopped short biting his tongue harshly. Her name had so very nearly past his lips he briefly wondered had he sucked her name back in with the same breath he had inhaled at that moment. "My upbringing," He finished quickly in the same deep monotone casually least he draw suspicion from the human sorceress.

Jaina nodded slightly in a knowing fashion. "Ah I see now, they represent your reasoning and why you are who you are."

"Indeed." Thrall replied his gravely deep voice having a hint of approval in it as he began on another braid.

"I suppose." Jaina began her words thoughtful and cautionary. "That my parts would represent my belief in a peaceful future, my people as well,…and you." She finished after a few heartbeats.

He stopped braiding her golden hair as if frozen by an ice spell his heart racing and hand trembling at her confession. How was it that she had the courage to admit her feelings when he constantly felt embarrassed and filled with anxiousness when he desired to express his love for her? Was he afraid that even though they had admitted their love for one another she would one day sever that tie they shared leaving his heart a smoldering heap in his hands? Or would he have to deliver the agonizing blow of separation?

Jaina turned to him, a faint knowing smile on her full red lips that ended all the worry and shame that sprang from his insecurity. He did not have to say he loved her, Jaina knew, Jaina always knew even when he couldn't say it. The sorceress gave him a small peck on the lips, letting his jet black coarse beard tickle her ivory face, not daring anything more intimate least it lead to them completely getting off track. Their lips lingered only a hairsbreadth apart as she broke away. "Back to work." Jaina informed Thrall teasingly, before standing up.

Thrall looked frustrated like a prize had been jerked from his grip before fighting his more primal emotions down again. "You haven't let me finish braiding your hair." He observed jokingly.

Sultrily Jaina chuckled twirling a braid of Thralls midnight black around one of her fingers her lips tipped upwards with a hint of mischief. "If we hurry with the charters we can finish this little moment in my quarters." She teased. "And I doubt braiding my hair will be the first thought on your mind, Warchief."

Thrall's rumbling laugh echoed through the tower like thunder, his sky blue eyes gleamed in merriment as he and Jaina walked hand in hand back to the table. "You do give the most wonderful incentives, Lady Proudmoore." He replied with a broad grin.

Now more at ease Jaina laughed heartedly. The braid Thrall had finished rested behind her ear, no more to trouble her by impairing her vision. Remembering Thrall's words about the braid representation she touched it solemnly before offering him a soft smile as they went back to their nights work.


End file.
